The day the music died
by Liapocalypse
Summary: I got tired of Hank being alone in the comics all the time, they keep dangling true love in front of him and snatching it away, so I gave him a girl, because Trish whatshername couldn't stand by her man. Rated M for graphic sexual content in later chaps.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Wren! The rest belongs to Marvel! I make no money off of any of this; I do it for the love!

Story summary: I got tired of Hank being alone in the comics all the time, they keep dangling true love in front of him and snatching it away, so I gave him a girl, because Trish whatshername couldn't stand by her man. And because Hank/Bobby slash is just not cool in my opinion. It's just a respect thing I have for Stan Lee's creations.

Author's notes: This is rated M for graphic discussions of sexual content in later chapters. Think sex ed rather than "dear penthouse forum".

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><p>The day the music died was a Tuesday.<p>

I was on the bus going to work when the aforementioned music died.

See, I was listening to the best of the Rolling Stones when my ipod crashed on me, and I was forced to endure the rest of the bus ride to Worthington Industries where I worked as one of many secretaries in the hallowed halls of the accounting department. I was a part of a small, obscure section of the corporation's fiance department that dealt with some of our CEO's more sensitive investments, such as mutant rights projects and funding for mutants in need.

When I got the promotion, I had to go through a million background checks, but on the upside, the corporation handles my taxes for free, so long as I give up most of my financial freedom (and explaining to a room full of dower business men why I had to buy that "novelty item" from the adult website is not a conversation any single 24 year old woman should have to do). But the perks far outweighed the downfalls, crazy Christmas bonuses, limos home if we had to work past 10pm, three weeks of vacation every year (and being fabulously single, I have spent the last two Christmases/New Years in Argentina and Bali respectfully, this year, it's Greece. Just me, the beach, and a bottle of booze.)

I know I sound like some alcoholic sex addict, but honestly, my job is intensely stressful, especially since I'm the only non-mutant working in my department I'm constantly being scrutinized for being even the slightest bit anti-mutant, which I'm not. So when I need to unwind a little, I tend to take it rather seriously. The big man himself, Warren Worthington the Third had the tendency to drop by a couple times a week to make sure we were guiding his investments properly since the discovery that some of the investors were putting company money into a place called X-Ranch through one of my colleagues (who shall remain nameless, but that incident made me the only non-mutant in my department).

When I finally reached the headquarters, I hopped off the bus into a warm spring Manhattan day, and I pushed my way into the lobby, my pumps clicking tastefully across the marble floor as I showed security my ID card and hopped the first elevator that became available. Just as the doors slid shut, one of my associates called out.

"Hey Wren, hold the elevator!" Bobby Drake called out and I stuck my white and oxblood secretary heel into the closing doors which bounced open gently and I stepped aside. "Thanks Wren, you're a life saver."

"Anytime Bobby," I grinned back.

"So Warren is coming down to go over the finances for the Xavier Institute fundraiser coming up," Bobby said lightly, and I looked at him, confused.

"I know, I set up the meeting, I'll be there this morning too," I replied. I had to go to the party, I was one of the managers of the event, so my presence would be all work and no play. But at least Professor Xavier was kind enough to give me a room to stay in for the weekend, since Bobby and Warren were residents.

"Well-umm-I was wondering if you were going with anyone," Bobby mumbled, and I turned to look at him for a moment. Even in pumps he had a few inches on me, and today I felt particularly sexy in my black pencil skirt and ivory blouse with the scarlet embroidery of a sparrow on a tree branch. So his suddenly asking me to a work function threw me off my groove enough that I almost fell over backwards.

"I-umm, well no, I'm not going with anyone, I have to work that night," I said, suddenly feeling out of my league. I had seen him down in the company pool one day doing laps and I couldn't help but stare at his chiseled physique as I got ready for my own swim. His words sent the flash threw my head and I had to savagely push them aside.

"Not all night, come on, I know the schedule just like you do, you show up early to orchestrate the set-up, and stay after to make sure everything gets cleaned up, except for handling minor problems during the event, you're free as a bird, why don't you go as my date? You'll already be spending the weekend at the Institute, might as well enjoy it," Bobby said, giving me a rakish grin.

For the life of me I couldn't think of a reason to say no, so I forced myself to say yes. "Alright Bobby, sure, I'll be your date."

"Great, hey, how are you getting to the Institute anyway?" He asked as the numbers of the floors steadily pushed towards the fiftieth floor.

"I'm not sure, I think I was going to take the train out to Salem Center and then get a cab to the Institute, I still have a month to figure it out," I said thoughtfully.

"Hey, why don't I drive you back to the school that Friday night after work?" Bobby asked, suddenly enthusiastic.

"I-I can't," I said, suddenly realizing that I had a solid reason all of a sudden. "I have to pick up my dress from the tailors, I've been having fittings for this dinner like crazy and the tailor said it'd be ready that Friday night, so I have to go and pick it up."

"We can go together, I'll even wait while you try it on," Bobby said with an easy smile.

"Oh yeah? Okay then, if it's alright with Professor Xavier," I said, smiling back.

"I'll ask him tonight and let you know tomorrow," Bobby replied brightly.

When we arrived on our floor, Bobby headed for his mailbox while I began the journey through the endless cubicles towards our somewhat hidden door and when I pushed inside, I stared in horror at Warren Worthington himself standing in the main foyer, his crisp white shirt and wings contrasting handsomely with his blue skin.

"Oh my goodness, am I late?" I asked, suddenly alarmed.

"Not at all, I came down to check something, but I don't seem to have the keys to get into the records room," he said, looking almost sheepish.

"Huh? Oh, right," I said, putting my handbag down on my desk, I unlocked a desk drawer and pulled it open, removing a set of keys, I swept past the angel with cool efficiency and unlocked the door to the records room, allowing him to peruse the hard files to his hearts content.

While he did that, I started up my Mac and logged onto Worthington Industries network and opened up my emails, sending off a few replies, I made a couple phone calls, and when Bobby came in, he winked at me and dropped my mail on my desk. Smiling a thanks, I confirmed a meeting for one of the women in my department, named Harriet, and then got ready for the meeting, which, miraculously, everyone was on time for.

"Alright, so we're holding the fundraising event in the main ballroom of the Xavier Institute, there will be tables outside on the patio, and inside around the ball room floor," Warren began, looking over the catering files.

"Yes, the catering company has been approved for both quality of food and budget, the flower arrangements have already been purchased, no fragrant flowers at the tables, and there will be a 16 piece orchestra playing 1940's jazz, the classics, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. The doors open at 6:30, and run till midnight," I said smoothly, laying out the actual event information, and from there we moved onto pay schedules and by the end of it, I had a neat little list of things to take care of.

When I left work that night, Bobby and I slumped down the empty cubes towards the elevator, and I gave serious thought to taking a cab back to my apartment on the Upper West Side. But instead opted for the subway, my new party dress had cost a handsome chunk of change.

"Up to anything tonight?" Bobby asked.

"It's 9:30, the only thing I'm doing is ordering Chinese and watching old television reruns of 'I Love Lucy'," I said, leaning against the wall, my usual grace and verve had abandoned me in the face of a long day at the helm and I was looking forward to turning my brain off for a while.

When we reached the lobby, we bid each other goodnight, and I hopped on the subway and made my slow way home.

The next few weeks were filled with meetings, phone calls, countless hours spent running all over Manhattan, and finally, (finally!) the weekend of the event was upon us. Aside from myself, only Bobby was attending the event out of all the people in our department.

The night before I was due to go up to Westchester with Bobby, I my hair and nails done, and I picked up my shoes from the cobbler before heading to the diamond district to get my grandmother's diamond necklace and earrings from the jewelers where they were being cleaned. When I got back to my apartment, I got down my weekender bag, luggage locks and train case for my make-up and packed my things. My pajamas and several changes of clothes went into the traveling case along with the jewelry, hosiery, and shoes. Into my train case went shampoo, conditioner, blow dryer, curling iron, hundreds of bobby pins, yards of ribbon, and an enormous amount of hairspray, on top of the bottomless pit of make-up I kept around for any and all occasions.

Placing it by the door, I collapsed into bed and prepared myself for the weekend to end all weekends.

The next morning I showered, dressed, and wheeled my things down to the corner where I caught a cab to work. The day went by normally enough until 4pm when Warren's shadow darkened my desk, and he told me and Bobby to leave early, since I still had to get my dress. Leaving my bags in Bobby's car trunk, we left the garage and took the subway downtown to the tailor where I slipped into the fitting room and emerged several minutes later in a nude organza dress in an interior space where I stood while my female tailor busied herself. The bodice hugged my body severely, one strap went over my shoulder with a fall of ivory fabric that hung in artful tatters. The skirt flared low on my hips in endless layered ruffles of organza, making me look as though I was a shipwrecked mermaid, and when I saw myself, tears sprang to my eyes. I had never felt more beautiful. The skin tight bodice showed none of my flaws, and paired with the mad drama of my skirt and the tatters of fabric over my shoulder only emphasized my waifish features. My thin face, ice blue eyes, and white blonde hair. Despite that, I had a supremely feminine figure, full hips and large breasts, and a confidence that probably terrified more men than it emboldened. I suddenly remembered one of Alexander McQueen's quotes "I like to make clothing that make women seen strong, so strong that it almost turns the people around them off".

I was supremely grateful to my seamstress who looked at me and said firmly. "Wear grey eyeshadow."

When the dress was lovingly hung inside not one, but two garment bags, I dressed into my other clothes and went out to pay for it.

When I was done, I turned to face Bobby who had a slightly glazed look, despite being in the shop for only 15 minutes, and we headed back to work where my dress was hung in the back of the car, and we set off for Salem Center together.

An hour later and we pulled up in front of a gorgeous Dutch colonial mansion with a long graceful driveway and a statue of a phoenix in the front drive. Climbing out of the car, I retrieved my dress and two bags and followed Bobby in through the front door.

"Oh, hi Hank, hi Logan," Bobby said brightly, then turned, motioning to me. "This is Wren, she's orchestrating the event this weekend."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you," I said, smiling broadly at them.

"What are you doing, at least offer to take her bags," Logan growled, but when he tried to take my dress, I snatched it back out of his grasp.

"It's one of a kind, based on an Alexander McQueen, no one is touching it except for me, and these two cases are just as valuable. I appreciate the chivalry, but this is my burden to bear," I explained, and returned the man's gazed as he reassessed me and nodded approvingly.

"Come on Wren, let's get you settled before dinner," Bobby said, dragging me up the stairs while I struggled with my bags.

Finally we were standing inside of a simple guest room with an adjoining bathroom. I hung the dress in the closet before turning to Bobby.

"Thanks for having me come up early, this is fantastic Bobby, really," I said, smiling widely.

"Dinner's in an hour, go on and get settled and I'll come and get you," Bobby grinned before shutting the door behind him.

I took my time unpacking, and changed out of my work clothes into a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt I took my train case into the bathroom and unpacked it before turning to stare at the room-sized shower stall in appreciation, and promised myself a long hot shower before bed tonight. I put my meager clothes in the dresser and put my shoes next to the door. By the time Bobby came to retrieve me I was happily tucked into my room and I followed him down the long and winding halls until we came to the kitchen and Bobby pushed through the door ahead of me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Warren talking to a woman with white hair and he smiled when he saw me.

"Everyone, this is Wren Gerard, she'll be running the shindig this weekend. Wren, this is Ororo, Remy, Scott, Jean, Emma, Kitty, Piotr, Professor Xavier and you know Warren, Logan and Hank," Bobby introduced and I smiled at them nervously.

"It's very nice to meet all you, thank you for putting me up for the weekend," I said gracefully.

"You're very welcome, please, won't you join us?" Professor Xavier asked, and I nodded, taking a seat at the table between Warren and Bobby.

Everyone was welcoming and kind, and by the end of dinner, I felt like I had found my way home. When we retired to the living room, I settled myself into a wing back chair with a mug of warm tea, and felt, for a moment, something like a buzzing at the outskirts of my mind, and I serenely studied the people in the room around me until my eyes fell onto the professors and I smiled at him, and he smiled back appreciatively.

"Tell us. . . Wren, is that right?" The professor asked courteously, and I nodded.

"Yup, Wren, just like the bird," I replied easily.

"How'd you get a name like that?" Logan asked curiously, and I started laughing.

"My mother was pregnant with me when she saw 'Footloose', so she named me after Kevin Bacon's character," I answered, laughing at their faces.

"How. . . quaint," Emma said coolly, her eyebrows raised, and I shrugged affably.

"So tell us Wren, have you had much experience with mutants?" Xavier asked, and I suddenly found myself under close scrutiny once again.

"Just at work, with Bobby and Mr. Worthington and some of my other co-workers," I replied, staring into my tea.

"Please Wren, call me Warren," Warren said gently, and I felt oddly touched by that.

"Do you have mutants in your family?" the professor continued, but I shook my head.

"I don't know, I never really knew my family," I answered honestly. "I lived with my aunt, but she never really cared for me, so I brought myself up. If I have anyone in my family that's gifted in that capacity, she never told me."

"Are you a mutant?" Hank asked curiously.

"Nope, 24 and never showed any inclination," I replied comfortably.

"There are late-in-life mutants," Hank responded. "Some people don't even experience their mutations until their twenties, thirties, even forties."

"If I'm one of them, it hasn't become apparent yet," I said.

The conversation changed after that, but throughout the night, I kept hearing an odd buzzing on the outskirts of my mind. But those thoughts were banished from my memory when I returned to my room and crawled under the pounding shower head, changing the jet so that it almost hurt as it pounded against my skin before I crawled into bed and collapsed naked between the sheets.

The next morning I dressed in a pair of black cotton pedal pushes, a green tank top and a grey shrug. Stuffing my feet into plastic flip flops, I waddled downstairs, carefully following the map the professor had given me until I found the ballroom and pulled open the doors. Flicking on the lights, I stared at the bags over the chandeliers to keep the dust off them and then went to open the patio doors to air the space out.

Over the next few hours I supervised the cleaning and arranging of the furniture, where the band would be stationed. I saw to the setting up of the tables and centerpieces and everything else imaginable. At 3pm, when everything was set to go, I told the band where to set up, and the caterers were preparing in the kitchen, I snuck away to my bedroom after leaving Warren in charge to do my hair and make-up.

On my way, I ran into Bobby and told him I would meet him at the party, and then stole away to my room.

When I got there, I undressed quickly and found myself staring at an odd rash on my thighs before I shrugged it off, chalking it up to nerves as I went about my ablutions.

Three and a half hours later I emerged, a vision in my dress, with my eyes outlined in stormy grey clouds and my lips were a dark purple ichor. The contrast to the dress and my skin was startling, and in the end, I decided to wear my grandmother's earrings, but not the necklace.

As I approached the ball room, I could hear music playing, and I stopped in a nestled corner to catch my breath.

"Okay cookie," I muttered to myself. "Let's rock and roll."

The main entrance to the ballroom was by a set of stairs that lead out onto the dance floor and I walked through the main entrance, pausing at the top of the stairs and watched as the entire room slowly turned to regard me for a moment, standing at the top of the stairs in my finery. The only sound was a glass of champagne dropping. The room was silent save for the band playing "At Last" by Etta James as I descended the stairs.

I saw Bobby standing with Hank and Logan and I crossed the floor to him, taking his hand and leading him out onto the dance floor, moving with ease and passion to the music and enjoying the feel of his hands on my body through the dress.

"Oh Wren, you look-you look," he finished lamely.

"You look handsome too," I smiled back as we danced, and I smiled as other couples joined us on the floor. Scott and Jean danced by, and even Hank and Emma as we twirled across the floor, my dress catching and twirling with the air currents as we moved. We danced for another hour, talking and laughing until we found our way to our seats as Warren stood up to make his speech. While he prattled on about the importance of mutant rights and funding, Hank and I were carrying on a conversation about Darwinism and mutant genetics softly, laughing at articles we had read in science journals and discussing the finer points of dominant and recessive genes in mutants while Bobby looked on, seemingly flummoxed until Warren's speech ended and I turned back to him, diffusing his frustration easily with a friendly joke.

But despite my efforts at being a good friend and date to Bobby, Hank and I kept coming back to one another until after dinner when he asked me to dance. We moved across the floor with ease and I tried to ignore the terrible scratching pain that the dress was producing in my legs until-

"Wren, are you-did you-I think you had an accident," Hank said, and I pulled away from him as shame flashed across my cheeks, but I hadn't wet myself, my entire dress, front and back from the waist down was soaked, and then a wad of skin hit the dance floor next to my right foot and I shrieked, took a step back and fell to the floor, suddenly unable to support my own weight.

"What's that on her back!" A woman behind me screamed, and I looked up at Hank in a panic.

"What's what on my back?" I asked as tears slipped over my cheeks. "What's happening to me?"

I watched as Hank turned from a man into a doctor, gently easing my skirt up to the knees, not letting me see the damage, but the surrounding people cursed and made dark noises, but Hank simply lifted me off of the parquet floor and carried me from the ball room with speed.

I clung to him fearfully as he carried me down into the recesses of the house, and he carefully undressed me as Warren and Bobby joined us a moment later.

"Bobby, go get Jean," Hank instructed firmly.

"But-" Bobby began.

"GO!" I roared, afraid and hurting.

"These buds on her back," Warren breathed. "They're the beginnings of wings, she has hours of labor ahead of her by the looks of them."

Jean came hustling in.

"We need to get her undressed," Hank said, and Warren immediately began to undo the delicate hook and eye fastenings on my dress.

"Get out, I don't need you or Bobby seeing me naked, we work together," I said desperately.

"She's right Warren, this is going to be hard enough without her worrying about her job," Hank said, pushing Warren and Bobby out the door while Jean began to undo the delicate fastenings.

Ten minutes later my dress sat stained on another bed, but largely out of harms way as Hank and Jean cleaned off the debris and dust that had accumulated in the pooling lymph on my legs. The pain was unearthly, but I was terrified, so no matter what I did, I was basically screwed.

When they finished cleaning off my legs, Hank and Jean wrapped my legs and feet in clean white gauze.

"Take these Wren, it's going to be a long night," Hank said, handing me two chalky white pills which I popped for the pain and allowed myself to be turned onto my stomach.

As I slept, the two small buds on my back grew in size, but the opiates had knocked me out and when I woke, roaring into life from the pain, I heard my two guides in this ordeal come hustling into the room.

I tried to breath into the pain while I worried about what was happening to me.

As the night progressed the pain grew worse until I was soaked with sweat and gripping my headboard while sitting on my knees, screaming every time a wave of pain hit me. I felt less like a person and more like an animal, determined to go to ground, determined to die without a soul noticing, a hard thing to accomplish as I was under constant surveillance.

Gritting my teeth and closing my eyes I let out another maddening scream, turning my voice to gravel as I begged for salvation.

Huffing and panting between spasms, I bent my head against my forearm, exhausted from a labor that showed no signs of ending. Occasionally the hard nubs on my back would twitch, growing bigger. The skin on my legs screamed with sensitivity where they rubbed against the gauze. For my part I had abandoned all hope at decorum and wiped my streaming eyes and nose on the pillow case.

"Okay cookie, somewhere in this is a silver lining," I said and the pain toned down enough for me to wonder for a fleeting minute if I could handle getting some water before another pain took me, exorcizing any thought that I could somehow ease my suffering in all of this.

When the next wave of pain subsided, Jean pressed a glass of cool water against my lips, and I drank deeply, preparing for the worst.

Another wave hit me and I pressed my head forward into the bed, screaming madly while Hank tenderly felt the area around the masses on my back while Jean spoke gentle words and lied to me that it would all be over soon.

"Wren," Hank said gently. "I have some news for you. You're going to be getting wings, and some new legs by the looks of it. But don't worry, I'll be here to help you through it. You're going to live, but right now I need you to rest."

I managed to snag a few hours of broken sleep, and when I woke I found Hank cleaning my feet and I stared for a terrible, long moment at the place where my toe nails had once been and I began to cry in horror, clawing desperately at my chest, I almost fell off the bed and had to be restrained and sedated.

When I woke up next the pain in my back was white hot and I gasped, grabbing my stomach in one hand and my headboard with the other, the metal bed frame was cool to the touch and I screamed and cursed, pushing into the pain until I felt blood running in rivulets down my back and I stared up at the lit ceiling, as sweat and blood ran down my skin, turning into rivers between my shoulder blades and breasts. My legs and feet screamed in agony and for one long horrified moment I hung suspended in a moment of pure decision. I could kill myself from exhaustion, or I could live, and I forced myself to breath, forced myself to take some of the proffered water and I stared ahead waited. I knew the final moment was coming soon and I patiently waiting for it, trying hard not to snap at the people standing on either side of me and keeping me upright.

A moment later a terrible pain consumed me whole and I screamed, bending forward as a terrible crackling sound filled the room and my wings broke free from my body, arcing blood across the walls and ceiling as they shook free from my body.

I cowered on the bed, whimpering in fear as Hank tenderly cleaned me off, clucking gently as he wrapped the base of my wings in gauze to stem the bleeding. And then, finally, I was allowed to lie down, for a few moments, in the ruin of my evolution.

I slept for much of the next few days. I couldn't move, couldn't go anywhere or do anything. I couldn't even make it to the bathroom on my own and had to use a bedpan. I won't go into details about this period of my life. It wasn't pretty, frankly it put a serious dent in my self-esteem having to rely on other people for things like food and the bathroom.

One night, after Hank left me for the night, when I was alone in the bowels of the Xavier Institute, I began to cry, softly at first, then I began to keen like an animal. I was in constant pain, slow and saturating pain, and I hated myself, hated myself for being weak, hated myself for needing these people, and mostly I hated myself for feeling so lonely through all of this. I laid there, screaming out my pain in the basement, unable to move, I cried so hard I couldn't breath and snot ran down my nose and tears fell hot and salty down my cheeks.

I heard the door to the infirmary open and I saw someone come in through the shadows. "Wren, what's going-"

"Don't hurt me!" I screamed, falling gracelessly off the bed. My wings fluttered uselessly against my back while my bandaged feet struggled to find purchase on the slippery steel floor. I skittered back until I hit the wall and I could feel blood well against my wing joints, soaking the bandages and leaving behind a streak of crimson blood.

"Wren, it's Hank, it's okay, take it easy, everything's going to be alright," he soothed, slowly inching his way forward.

I shook my head frantically. "No it's not! I don't have skin on my legs, and my wings aren't feathered, they should be feathered, but instead I have-dragon wings! I don't even have toe nails! This isn't evolving, I'm turning back into a lizard, going back into the ocean!"

"Oh, oh Wren," Hank murmured. "You're not going back into the ocean, you're going to soar through the skies."

"Yes," I wept bitterly. "Like a pterodactyl!"

"No, like a legend," Hank said which such finality that I looked up at him, my self-loathing forgotten for a piercingly clean moment of clarity. He took another step forward, crouching down he reached out to touch me and I tried to pull away, leaving behind another crimson stain. "You are a champion Wren. You've lost your physical humanity, but you are still the same person inside, the same intelligence, the same sense of humor, no matter what you look like that will never taken away from you Wren, no matter what. You will always be human, even if you doing fly through the sky."

"I used to be so proud of what I looked like, and now I'm just. . . bereft Hank. I can't find the strength to overcome this," I said, feeling so lost.

"Have you seen your wings yet Wren?" Hank suddenly asked.

I looked at him for a long moment. "W-what?"

"Have you seen your wings yet?" Hank asked again patiently.

I took a breath and then let it out. "N-no."

Before I could move, Hank lifted me up in his powerful arms and carried me across the hall and set me down on a high chair which he rolled into his lab. Against one long wall was a series of mirrors. Flicking on the light, I sat there and stared at myself for a long moment.

Despite the angry purple circles under my eyes, I was still the same person. Same pale white skin, same long, curly white blonde hair, same ice blue eyes, same wide thin mouth. I still had the same thin face and abnormally long neck that perched on slender shoulders and gave way to my torso and legs. But there, just over my shoulder, were a pair of pale green wings, smooth and muscular with the delicate sinewy bones underneath.

Hank tenderly lifted one of my wings and pulled it out to it's full length, almost 8 feet. I gasped, and then whipped my head around and looked, _really looked_ at my wings for the first time. It was like meeting my kid for the first time, kind of strange and surreal but supremely welcome and amazing and I had no idea how I had ever lived without them before.

I lifted a hand to touch them, and then drew my hand away, afraid they would vanish if I did. But eventually I worked up the courage and they felt smooth and warm to the touch, and I gasp and choked for a moment.

"T-these are mine?" I finally asked.

"All yours," Hank said, gently rearranging my wing before rebandaging them.

"Forever?" I breathed.

"Forever and ever," Hank replied, and when he finished, I whipped around on the stool and threw myself at him, holding him against me in an enormous bear hug.

"Thank you Hank," I said, leaning my head back and gazing into his eyes.

"You did all the work," he said, smiling and showing his canids.

"You kept me sane," I replied with an adventurous smile, and then I leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. When I pulled away Hank was studying me with a mixture of shock and happiness, and then he leaned in and kissed me deeply.

He felt immensely real to me, the feel of fur under my hands was strangely surreal, but the brush of his claws against my sides through the thin hospital gown felt good, despite my considerable bruising. His tongue against mine was immensely human, and I lost myself in that kiss. When he released me my breathing hitched, and he looked bruised for a moment.

"I'm sorry, it's just, it's been so long, and that was woooow," I said breathlessly and Hank threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"Would you like to sit outside and see the stars?" Hank asked gently. "It's a full moon."

"Okay, but I want to put on some more clothes otherwise there's gonna be two full moons tonight," I said blithely.

One change into scrubs later, I found myself sitting outside on an adirondack bench under a blanket with Hank, who was furry, and therefore immensely warm.

We sat out there for hours pointing out constellations to one another until we fell asleep. We were woken hours later by Logan, getting ready for his tai chi class on on the lawn.

"You two forget where you were? This ain't no hotel," Logan growled, and we slinked off into back to the infirmary to change my bandages and see how my legs were doing.

When Hank unwrapped the bandages, we gazed in awe at the little, pale jade green scales that were slowly forming on my legs and feet. Even toenails had begun to grow back in, except now I had talons on my feet instead of regular toenails. After washing my legs and feet, we let them air dry and while I sat there waiting to be rewrapped, Bobby and Warren came in and wandered over to study my legs.

"I'm sorry I've been missing so much work," I said to Warren. "I'll make it up, I promise, late nights, weekends, the works."

"Actually, we were thinking that perhaps your place would be better suited here at the mansion with the kids," Bobby said brightly.

"I-what?" Was all I could think of to say.

"At the Hampton's party for two years running, you've played my piano and sang, and we do need a music teacher," Warren said, this was a job offer that was bringing me up short.

"But I'm not a teacher. I just kinda wade into the fray," I said thoughtfully.

"Professor Xavier thought it might be a good idea," Bobby said. "But you could really mean something to these kids since your-"

"Since my what?" I demanded to know, my voice rising the octave.

"I think perhaps the both of you should leave," Hank began.

"No, I want to know what Bobby means," I railed. "I'm having a hard enough time coming to terms with this, I don't want to be treated like some damned mascot!"

"Wren, open your eyes, you're a grown woman," Bobby yelled. "There are kids here, girls who feel exactly the same way you do, except they've been that way since birth. If you can get your act together, you can prove to them that there's more to life than hiding themselves!"

That shut me up. He was right, there were people here who had it much worse off than I did. Not everyone's mutation manifested in a place where mutants were taken care of and protected.

I let the silence lengthen to an almost uncomfortable point, then I sighed. "Can I think about it?"

"Take all the time you need," Warren said gently, berating Bobby for his attitude towards me as they left the room.

Hank didn't say a word to me, just left me to my own thoughts. When Hank came back into the room, I asked him for a wheelchair.

I made my way out of the basement by myself, my legs carefully wrapped in a blanket. I wheeled slowly along the corridors of the hall, pausing every now and again to watch the kids, laughing, running, playing with one another. When I reached the back patio, I stopped my journey, and sat watching the kids on the basketball court, smiling as they used their mutant powers to play.

I was so absorbed in my observation that I didn't even realize Professor Xavier had come up behind me.

"May I introduce you to someone?" He asked gently. I looked over at him, in his own wheelchair, studying me intently.

"Okay," I said, my voice cracking like a twelve year old boys. I followed the professor up to the second floor of the mansion, and he lead me into a section of the house that wasn't visible from the outside. When we reached a solid oak door, he stopped.

"Don't be alarmed when you meet Agatha, she's really quite sweet," Xavier said, and before I could do anything, he pushed the door open. Lying inside on the bed was a girl with no hair. She had a clean, glistening white skull cap, and an empty eye socket. Save for the skin and cartilage that covered the right side of her face, giving her a nose and most of a mouth, her entire body was glistening white bone, the calcium of her bone was up in enormous peaks of armored solidarity. For a moment, I was struck dumb, but she smiled at me, her one brown eye twinkling in the light.

"Agatha, this is Wren, I thought that the two of you might enjoy getting acquainted. Wren might be joining the school as a music teacher," the professor explained.

"Oh wow, we need a music teacher," the girl said. "Especially the younger kids, music feeds your soul," Agatha said brightly as the professor withdrew, leaving us alone.

When he was gone, the girl sighed sadly, and I wheeled up next to her.

"Are you okay?" I asked her hesitantly.

"I'm just tired of having to stay in this bed all the time," she said sadly.

"Why can't you leave?" I asked gently, resting my forearms on her bed.

"I don't have muscles or ligaments to support my legs," she said.

I stopped, even stuttered a moment on that one. "So what?"

She shot me a look. "Well, look at me!"

"Yes, look at you!" I crowed loudly. "You're fabulous! You're the only girl who'll never have to worry about maintaining her figure! Your rib cage is armored, so you don't have to worry about anything injuring or damaging your internal organs."

She stared at me wide-eyed.

"Look, I'll make a deal with you," I finally said. "I'll let you sit in my wheelchair, and we can take a walk down to the music room and I'll give you a singing lesson, if you still don't feel comfortable by the end of the hour, you can cloister yourself back up in here all you want."

Agatha regarded me for a long moment. "One hour?"

"Give or take a few minutes," I replied.

"O-okay, but can you walk?" She asked, concern etched on her face.

"I have enough on the soles of my feet that if I hold onto the wheelchair it should be fine," I replied.

Ten minutes of scrabbling followed where I managed to get me out of the chair, Agatha into it, and ourselves out into the hallway without killing or injuring ourselves too badly. I walked very slowly down the hall towards the elevator, a journey that took two minutes now took ten. When we reached the first floor, I walked Agatha slowly out into the hall and looked around.

"I don't know where the music room is," I admitted. "So we're going to find it."

I began walking slowly down the hall while Agatha looked around us nervously. My feet hurt a little bit, but my slow pace more than compensated and when we turned a corner, I nearly ran over Logan.

"Wren, Agatha, what are you two doing out of bed?" He asked, chomping on the butt of his cigar and eyeing us closely.

"Music lesson, just trying to find a piano," I said as Logan moved out of the way and we resumed our slow search.

"End of the west wing, come on, I'll take ya," Logan said, and joined our little party.

About halfway down the hall, our journey was stopped, again, when an Asian girl in a bright yellow trench coat jumped out of no where, nearly blowing the three of us over.

"Hi, wow, are you new to Xavier's?" The girl asked Agatha, nearly jumping up and down. "I'm Jubilee, what's your name?"

"Agatha, and I'm not new, I've been here a few months," Agatha replied shyly.

"Then why haven't we ever seen you?" Jubilee demanded, her hands planted firmly on her narrow hips.

"Oh well," she began.

"Don't tell me you were embarrassed by the way you look! Come on, my friends and I were just about to grab lunch, why don't you join us?" She asked merrily, and Agatha leaned her head back to look at me.

"It's okay, go and spend time with the other kids," I said, passing my wheelchair off to Jubilee while I eased myself down onto a chair in the hall.

"You okay?" Logan asked, crouching down in front of me.

"Oh, yeah, just a little tired," I said into my hands.

"I saw what you did for Agatha, she hasn't left her room since she got here, and all of us have tried," Logan said. "But you're the first to pull it off."

"Maybe it's easier coming from someone who looks like they do," I said baldly, then. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know Wren, and it is, especially when it's coming from someone whose obviously still evolving," Logan said, catching my arms and drawing me carefully to my feet. We made our slow way back down the hall towards the elevator, and half an hour later when we made it into the infirmary, we found Professor Xavier and Hank talking with one another.

"I see your mission was a success," Xavier said, smiling broadly.

"Yeah, she's with Jubilee now," I replied, sighing as Logan helped me onto the bed.

"Wren, I know your feeling a little tender right now, but you could really help these kids," Xavier said.

"It's not that I don't want too, it's just that Warren has all but said I can't go back to my job. Maybe it's because besides him I'd be the only outwardly physical mutant besides him in the company, but I just wish he'd be straight with me," I said, finally giving voice to the anger I had been sitting on since that morning.

"I think Warren is trying to protect you Wren. You live in the City don't you, on the Upper West Side?" Xavier asked, and I nodded mutely, wondering where this was going. "Many mutants get attacked just by walking down the street, they get sent package bombs, and are physically, sexually and emotionally harassed constantly. By coming here and working with the kids, you'd be safe and out of harms way and be giving back to the community."

For a moment I flashed on myself two years earlier, a positive sex activist and educator working in one of premiere toy shops in Manhattan while I worked my way through college where I was studying music and art. I remembered how good it felt, how empowered I was to take ownership of my body. I had given lectures on pleasure anatomy and how to escape partner abuse. I had given back all through college, but when I started working for Worthington Industries, I had stopped all that. Of course, this was also an aspect of my life that my boss and co-workers were woefully unaware of.

And suddenly, I felt the need to come clean.

"Can we talk about the position? Alone?" I asked, sitting up straight and trying hard to ignore the measuring look Hank was giving my back.

"Of course," Xavier said, looking thrown off by my ferocity.

Up in his office, I sat there for a long moment, staring at the rain that had begun to fall outside.

"Community is a really funny thing," I said. "I never really had a family, so wherever I went, my community became that family. Back in college, I needed a job, so I wound up doing the last thing I ever thought I would do. I worked in an upscale boutique selling sex toys. This wasn't in one of those scuzzy places in Midtown, it was down in Tribeca, on a little side street. All warm wood and clean lines inside. I got really good at my job. So good, in fact, that I began speaking at universities around the city under a false name. I worked with other survivors of partner abuse, both as a counselor and an empowerer. I taught pleasure anatomy, and helped couples and individuals find their own ways back to better intimacy with their bodies and their partners bodies. I know that I would never be teaching any of this to the kids. Lord knows that's something that should go without saying. But I need you to understand that that is the root of my teaching experience. It wasn't some class I took in college, it was working out in the world with people of all different kinds of identifications, and I loved doing it."

The emotions that crossed the professor's face were rich stuff, and I expected to be thrown out onto my ass, but instead he surprised me.

"Emma Frost on staff is a train sex therapist Wren. And I'm sure the two of you will be delighted to teach sex ed together. I don't have any problem with how you got your experience, so long as you don't bring it into the classroom with the children. Warren says you studied music and art in school?" Xavier said, and I almost laughed out loud as the ease with which he accepted my past.

"Yes, I did a double major in performance, I play the piano and sing, and I studied art history," I explained. "I graduated from NYU with honors."

"That is most impressive, perhaps you'd be willing to take up several classes then," the professor suggested. "Sex ed, art history, and chorus."

"I-I'd be delighted too," I said, oddly touched by the offer.

There came a knock on the door behind us, and Warren poked his head in. "This a bad time? I was hoping we could talk business."

"Of course," Xavier replied easily, and I watched the familiar sight of Warren move from friend to businessman.

"Now, Worthington Industries will continue to pay your salary," Warren began, but I stopped him.

"No, if I'm working here in a capacity as a teacher, then we'll be working along side one another as equals, I don't want you to have that kind of control over me since we'll both be on the same ground," I replied firmly.

"How much is your salary?" Xavier asked, steepling his hands.

"55 grand a year," I replied. "With full medical benefits."

"I can match that, and offer hazard pay," Xavier said, and I felt the blood rush out of my head.

"Hazard pay?" I asked weakly.

"Yes, the mansion is a bit of a target at times," he replied easily.

"Oh, umm, well, okay," I said.

"Room and board, will of course be included in your work packet," he continued on easily. "And you'll have regular training sessions with Logan."

"I'm kinda broken, I don't really do well with high physical activity," I said, laughing at the thought.

But the two men just stared at me unyieldingly and I felt miles in over my head.

"I was in an accident a couple years ago, got thrown into a tree, almost broke my back, right hip and thigh, now I have residual weakness that won't go away. And I ruptured one of the muscles for balance in my right foot, so I can't walk a straight line either, medically speaking," I admitted slowly.

"And you thought not to tell Hank this during all your time with him in the infirmary?" Warren asked, and my back straightened.

"It had no bearing on the situation," I said coolly.

"We're getting off topic here," Xavier said in soothing tones. "Logan will work on building up your strength and healing your hip as far as you can go. And Warren will see to your flight lessons once you've healed. We'll move you into a larger suite of rooms here, and send Bobby and Jean to pick up your things from your apartment."

"Okay," I said, dropping my keys on his desk.

"You can look at everything when it arrives and decide what you'd like to do with everything," Xavier said, dismissing us moments later. Left alone in the hall, I stopped, suddenly caught in a moment of self-loathing and a sense of restlessness that I couldn't smother. I turned and started jogging through the halls before I broke out into a run. I could feel the delicate scales rubbing against each other on my legs as they shifted and bled, but I didn't care. I just ran, pushing out of the mansion as fast as I could, unable to stop the flow of tears as my life fell to pieces all around me.

I ran past Logan and Hank who were walking towards me as I sprinted towards the tree line of the woods, stripping off the flimsy hospital gown as I ran, pressing into the woods wearing nothing more than my panties and bra and bandages. I ran until I thought my lungs would burst open, and when my foot connected with a tree root I went flying and sprawled on the water laden ground in a tiny clearing with a small ground spring that welled and filled the space. I knelt there, sobbing hysterically as I clawed at my bandages and stared at the scales and the talons that were growing out of my toes.

"God fucking dammit!" I screamed, pounding my fist onto the ground and send up a spray of water as I bent forward and sobbed.

And then I was hit from behind. Wrapped in a furry warm embrace by a presence much larger than myself and I screamed and struggled against the restraining arms.

"Stop, let me go!" I shrieked, clawing desperately against Hank.

"Let go Wren," he whispered fiercely. "Just let it go. It's done."

"Let what go?" I asked, suddenly nervous. "Nothing's wrong, I just needed some air is all."

"If you really think I believe that," he began.

"Then what? You'll sell me some magic beans! Nothing's wrong Hank, I was just tired of being cooped up in that pretty little prison where everyone is suffocating in their own damage and no body says anything!" I railed, but even as I said the words my throat constricted and I realized what I had just said, the truth of the words, and Hank was too perceptive not to pick up on my real meaning.

"Then say it," he said fiercely. "Say what you really need to say."

"I can't," I said desperately.

"I'm not letting you go until you tell me what's really bothering you," Hank said, holding me tightly by the shoulders.

"No, you'll just wait until you get what you want and then leave, just like everyone else. Leave little Wren-bird to pick up the pieces," I said with terrible bitterness. "Oh God Hank I've walked through hell, and I've always been strong, I always found a way to stand up on my own two feet. And I've always found a way to deal, but I can't do this. I can't face the day again. Everything I've worked towards has been taken away from me. And I can't even blame anyone this time. There is no bad guy in a black trench coat. I feel like I've undergone some terrible natural disaster, but I don't know how to rebuild, I don't know how to adapt to this. And everyone acts like nothing's changed, like I've got some amazing gift to give the world, but all I can think about is the fact that my body has forced me back into hiding-"

I choked on my words, my breathing hitching before I sobbed a terrible, heart wrenching sob and I tried desperately to stifle it, tried to prove that I was okay, but when I couldn't I turned my head, trying to hide my utter downfall.

When I heard Hank sob, I turned my head and looked up at him, tears wetting his fur.

"Everything has changed Wren, and you will never be the same woman you used to be," he said, and I wrapped my arms around him, as much for his comfort as for my own. "I know you hurt, I know you despise yourself and crave the end, but it will get better. Every day it get a little easier, every day you get better about getting out of bed. Smiling won't hurt as much after a while, and finally, when you accept your body, you see that everyone around you here accepts it too. You don't have to rebuild your life alone Wren. I'll help you, I'll stand by you as you find the strength to get out of bed in the morning. Because I know how much you hate yourself right now, I know how much it hurts to look in the mirror and see someone different than the person you thought was you-"

His own breathing hitched and he wept, his head pillowed against my neck as we clutched each other and wept.

"Don't leave me Hank," I begged desperately. "Don't go, I can't face the world alone."

"You don't have to face the world alone," he said, clutching me tightly. "I'll always be here for you."

"We'll always be here for you," said Logan, and we both turned, our faces streaked with tears.

There, standing on the edge of the natural pool stood Warren, Bobby, Jean, Scott, Logan, Emma, Kitty, Piotr, Ororo, and Remy.

"The X-Men stick together," Jean said. "No matter what you look like, where you come from or where you're going, we're a family."

"Thick as thieves," Remy said with a rakish grin.

"Wren, I own you an apology," Warren said. "I just plodded ahead and made plans for you without talking to you about it first, you deserve better than that. Your job will always be there for you at the company whenever you want it. I've even acquired the building where your apartment is, so you can always go back there when you need too. Consider it a welcome to the family present."

"Family?" I asked and felt Hank's hands tighten on my tiny ribcage.

"Family," Hank murmured. "And this one isn't going anywhere."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews! They are most appreciated! Sorry this took so long to write, I've been swamped with things. 'The Passion of Mary Magdalen' is a part of a wonderful series by Elizabeth Cunningham. And as always I own nothing except for my little Wren-bird.

Two weeks later I laid in bed next to Hank staring at the ceiling. Three days earlier I had been given a clean bill of health, and I went without bandages on my legs and feet since my scales and most of the talons on my toes had grown in. My wing joints were strong and healthy and the muscles in my back could support them easily. Which is how I came to lie next to Hank, wide awake at 6 in the morning staring at the ceiling. I was itching to fly.

Warren had said we would practice tonight, after I got back from packing up the things I would need from my apartment, but that seemed so long away. So I snuck out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and sneakers, grabbing one of Warren's old t-shirts with the wing slits in it that he had given me. Normally I needed help putting on my shirt, but this morning my wings fit effortlessly through the slits and I shot a look at Hank who snorted and rolled over in his sleep while I crept out of the room and down the hall.

I padded silently through the corridors until I reached the glass patio doors. The sun was just beginning to light the sky, so I slipped outside and tried to figure out how my new wings worked. And it dawned on me that perhaps I wouldn't be taking flight anytime soon, but that didn't stop me from trying to get my wings to move, and they did. Eventually. Sort of.

My left wing sputtered and twitched, and then my right wing shot straight up in the sky, and it took a certain amount of encouragement from me to get them back into their upright and locked positions. Then I started again.

An hour and a half later I could extend my right wing completely and my left wing part of the way and I figured I was making progress.

By 8 I could extend both of them, but I couldn't retract them. And that's how Warren found me, both wings fully extended, standing on the porch staring at them in deep thought.

"My my, I'm impressed," Warren said, walking around my not unimpressive wingspan. "Can you retract them?"

"I'm working on it," I said, sticking my tongue out over my upper lip.

"Here, just try relaxing the muscles, put your arms down, there," Warren said, and my wings were once against resting neutrally against my back. "Can you extend them again?"

We did this for over an hour, extending and retracting our wings. Well, he did it with graceful fluidity where as I looked like a spastic dinosaur about to have a seizure. But towards the end I could more or less retract my wings, and my back felt worked but not overly, and I had to sit down afterwards, the feeling of success was heady from my small victory.

"There you are, Hank and Jean are in the foyer, you ready to roll?" Bobby asked, and I nodded, taking the travel mug of tea from him and thanking him.

"Rest up tonight, we'll do more tomorrow, and when you start your classes on Monday, we'll work together in the evenings," Warren said brightly, waving us off.

Two hours of bickering later and we were parked and trudging up the stairs and into my apartment building. All of us were burdened with flattened boxes, packing tape and markers as we rode the elevator.

On the fifth floor we climbed out and I stuck my keys into the locks and pushed into the quiet little rent controlled apartment.

"Why don't you three start in here and I'll do the bedroom. You can leave all the furniture, just pack the books and photographs, movies and video games. Hmm, the television should come too, I can mount it on the wall. Save that and the computer, I'll pack those myself, as well as the bedding," I said, delegating effortlessly. "I'll still be living here part time, so there's no need to take everything away.

In my bedroom, I closed the door behind me and looked around for a moment before pulling my luggage out of the closet. I carefully packed away my clothing for the spring and summer, putting my families fine jewelry into locked cases and storing them at the bottom of my bags. I packed away shoes and handbags, photographs and the favorite books I kept in my room. Then I turned to the daunting task of figuring out what else needed to come with me. I was teaching sex ed and I had no idea where to begin. Teaching teenagers about human sexuality was different from teaching adults.

"Wren, what do you want to do with these books?" Jean called, and I quirked an eyebrow and went into the living room.

"Tools of the trade," I sighed, taking a book on self love for abuse victims from her hand.

"Why do you have all these books anyway?" Bobby asked, handling a beautifully illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra from India a friend had given me.

"I worked my way through college as a sex educator," I explained. "Don't damage that book, it was brought from India."

"What, seriously?" Jean asked, looking startled.

"I was a sex educator for adults, now I'll be one for teenagers," I said, putting the books into a box labelled "sex ed" in bold letters.

"Those are very different things," Jean said warily, her green eyes wide, and I put down the book I was holding on the shelf and looked at them.

"Up until three years ago I worked in an upscale adult boutique selling and teaching about healthy sex. I went onto to give lectures at colleges and work with partner abuse and rape survivors. I'm good at what I do. And I know better than to bring a copy of the Kama Sutra into class. That's for my own private use," I said smartly and easily. "And before you ask, the professor knows, he thinks it's marvelous and he trusts me to do the right thing."

"Well it would be good to give the kids a more rounded view than just the physical aspect," Hank mused.

"Safe sex is a big part of it, but there are emotional connotations to sex that they don't know about. They think it's all fun and games, they don't know yet that sex can be used as a weapon, it can be painful, or humiliating. It's an important dialogue to have. And if they feel that they can talk to someone about sex without being ridiculed or punished, then they have a better shot at leading healthier more enjoyable sex lives later on," I explained, surprised that it came back to me so easily. "Pack all the nonfiction stuff, pack the art history and sheet music, leave the rest."

As I walked back towards my bedroom, Hank followed me back.

"Why didn't you tell me you did all this," he asked, seating himself on the edge of my bed as I closed the door.

"I was going too," I said, hooking my hair behind one ear. "I just didn't want to rock the boat."

Hank just quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Sex workers and educators are often seen as. . . less. I'm proud of who I am and the work that I've done Hank. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I've just been trying to figure everything out and get my head around all the changes that it slipped my mind. The worry about us was just one more thing to deal with," I said honestly.

"I need you to tell me these things Wren," Hank said seriously. "This isn't going to work unless we feel like we can talk openly about who we are and what we've done."

I nodded mutely. "You're right Hank. I'm sorry, I'm not usually that person. I try hard not to be."

"I know you do Wren," he said warmly. "Now, show me what other devious things you have in store."

"Err, what?" I finally asked, wondering if he really meant it.

"You're the educator, educate," he said with a mischievous grin.

"It's all under the bed, you go through it and find what you like, or think you'd like and pack it away. Don't even show me, don't tell me, surprise me. Then I'll come and grab my favorites," I grinned back. "But we haven't even had sex yet Hank."

"Maybe I'm planning something special," he said cryptically.

"Well it's going to get a lot more special than you ever imagined," I replied, grabbing two train cases and heading for the bathroom.

When we left that night, I locked the door behind us and it took several trips back and forth to the elevator, but we finally loaded everything into the three cars and headed back to the Institute.

I spent most of that night and the following day unpacking my things in my new digs. My computer in the corner, my television mounted on the wall with the dvd player on top of the dresser underneath it. My books went on the shelves, and then I carted my books for the classroom down to the meager little office I had been given.

Then I sat down in my chair and opened the art history books. Putting together my lectures and arranging the sheet music for my first day of class took several hours, and around eleven, Hank came and tiredly herded me off to bed, where I collapsed between the blankets with Hank and we slept exhaustedly until my alarm went off the next morning and it was time to shine once again.

One shower and two cups of coffee later, I was giving my first art history lecture on prehistoric art. The same lecture I gave one more time that morning before my free period and lunch.

I took my time at lunch until Emma grabbed my elbow and hauled me to my feet. "The sooner you do it, the sooner it'll be done."

"But I teach adults, it was stupid to think I could teach teenagers about sex," I said as she dragged me towards my class.

"These kids have been through a lot, I think they can handle it," Emma said before pushing me into my classroom, and for a moment I stood, studying the faces of the kids in the chairs.

"Okay," I said brightly. "My name is Miss Gerard. Let's start with role call and go from there. . . My list is a little out of order here, sorry. Sooraya Qadir, check, Joshua Foley, check, Julian Keller, check, Cessily Kincaid, check, Victor Borkowski, check, Santo Vaccarro, check, Noriko Ashida, check, Laura Kinney, check, Hisako Ichiki, check, Megan Gwynn, check, Nezhno Abidemi, check, David Alleyne, check. Good, now that we're all here, can anyone tell me what they think sex is?"

"Excuse me," Sooraya asked, her purring voice rising out of her dark clothing.

"Yes Sooraya?" I asked brightly, leaning against the edge of my desk.

"I am not comfortable having this discussion with men in the room, it is unseemly," she said gently but firmly.

"Alright Sooraya, why don't you head on up to the library and do some studying. Could you meet me after class to discuss this? Sex ed is a required course," I asked calmly.

"Yes, so long as it is in private," Sooraya conceded.

"Great, then come to my office after class and we'll work then," I said as she packed up her bags. When she left, I turned my attention back to the rest of the class. "So, anyone?"

"It's about loving your wominz," Santo said.

"Okay, great," I wrote it down on the board. "Is that spelled with a 'z'?"

"Yes ma'am," Santo replied cheekily.

"Okay, what else?" I asked, looking sharply around.

"It's an expression of love between two people," Megan offered.

"Absolutely, what else?" I asked, surveying the class.

"It's biological," David said. "We do it to reproduce."

"Of course we do," I said. "What else?"

"What else is there?" Cessily asked.

"Good question, what else is there?" I said, coming to sit on the edge of my desk. "That's what we're here to find out."

Laura tentatively raised her hand. "Sex can be a weapon."

"What? That's stupid, sex doesn't hurt anyone," Santo said loudly.

"Actually that's wrong Santo," I replied. "Sex can absolutely be used as a weapon. It can be used to threaten and intimidate both men and women and damage them horribly."

"But if the guy gets it up," Santo started in.

"That's a natural biological response that isn't voluntary," I replied. "Just because he has an erection doesn't mean he wants to use it, or use it with the person whose pressuring him into doing something he's not comfortable with."

The class was silent as they thought that over.

The subject changed after that, and by the time the period was over, everyone wandered out in a daze except for Noriko, who slunk up to my desk. "What you were saying about guys, is that the same for girls too?"

I swallowed and tried to quiet the sound of blood rushing in my ears. "Yes Noriko, we don't have control over that part of our body either. Sometimes we don't get aroused when we want too, and sometimes we get aroused when we don't."

She was quiet for a moment, and I recognized the look of a woman who had been through hell and back.

"Noriko, what was his name?" I asked gently.

Her enormous liquid brown eyes widened and she stared at me in shock. "I-I have to go."

I watched her grab her bag and flee the room in a panic.

Sighing, I rested my head on my desk for a moment.

"Wren?" Hank asked from the door, and I looked up into his enormous blue face.

"Yes Hank?" I asked, pushing Noriko from my mind and smiling up at my boyfriend.

"I was wondering if you would do me the honor of escorting me to dinner on Friday night," he asked, coming forward to lean against my desk.

"I'd love too, what did you have in mind?" I asked teasingly, petting the fur on his forearm lovingly.

"That's a surprise, just dress in your finest attire and be ready to go at 6pm," Hank said, showing his canids as he smiled broadly.

"Alright baby, I shall endeavor to comply," I said, packing up my books and getting ready for my chorus class.

Hours later, when school was out and I was done for the day, I sat in my office in the vanishing light, staring at the horizon and thinking about Noriko. I certainly had my work cut out for me.

When I left the office, I travelled down into the basement of the house as though I were in a dream. Hank was working on something or another and I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his broad back. I listened to his heart and the sound of his breathing while he worked. We stayed like that for a long time, him working while I let go the stress and worry of the day until he finished and I withdrew my arms so he could turn around.

"How was your first day of explorations in adolescent academia?" He asked as I slumped down onto the stool next to his.

"Oh, you know, cave paintings and choral music," I said. "It was a pretty easy first day."

"And your other class?" Hank asked delicately.

"I'll tell you along with everyone else at dinner, goodness knows everyone wants to know what the big bad sex educator has to say," I said, grinning wickedly.

"Don't say that, I think what you're doing is admirable," Hank said honestly.

"Mmm, just wait 'til this weekend, you haven't seen anything yet," I said, and burst out laughing at the look on his face.

"Come on, let's go hit the communal watering hole," Hank said as we heaved ourselves out of our seats and headed up to the upper levels of the house.

When we reached the kitchen, Scott and Emma all but picked me up and shoved me into a chair.

"Your students were quite preoccupied after your class today Wren, care to explain?" Emma demanded, staring me down.

"We talked about sex and what it was," I said honestly.

"That's not all you did," Scott said.

"Okay, stop with the first degree, this is bullshit and the both of you know it. I just talked to those kids like they were adults and they responded, and that's what's really bothering you, isn't it?" I said. "I'm actually trying to get through to these kids and it bothers you that I've got them actively thinking about the material outside of class."

"Everyone calm down," Jean said, floating the dinner dishes over to the table. "Why don't you walk us through your class Wren?"

As we settled around the table, I noticed that after everyone had filled their plates, they all stopped to watch me, even the professor, and I sighed, spearing some asparagus with my fork.

"I started off the class with a discussion about what they thought sex was. There aren't any right or wrong answers when it comes to sex because everyone has different relationships and experiences with it. Some see it as casual, others see it as an expression of love, and some see it as a painful hurtful experience and it can be all of those things. We talked about what that meant, and we talked about what it meant when a man was forced into an uncomfortable sexual position, and that men are just as vulnerable as women when it comes to sex," I explained, relaxing when everyone stopped hammering me for details.

"Did anyone admit anything to you in class?" Emma asked, staring at me out of her blue eyes.

"That's none of your business," I replied sharply. "If the problem becomes bigger than something I can handle I will bring it to your attention, but until then I'm going to take care of things. I'm the most qualified person here to handle that kind of trauma anyway."

Stunned silence met my words and a moment no one said anything.

"Wren, should a problem arise, I would like you to come and see me," Charles said, studying me closely.

"Of course I'll do that, but I'm not going to violate a students trust until I see no other way," I replied.

"Very good, Emma, how was your telepathy class today?" The professor asked, shifting the focus away from me, but I could still feel the consternation and judgement from the others.

When dinner was finished I wandered up to my room and put on a movie, content to erase the miasma of judgement from the air, and Hank joined me. Towards eleven, I sat up straight in bed. "I want Reese's peanut butter cups. Wanna come?"

"Snack run?" Hank asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Snack run," I replied, grinning broadly.

Flicking off the television, we crept towards the bedroom door, my ear was down by the keyhole and Hank dwarfed me, leaning against the door, we strained to hear the sounds of murmured voices and doors closing before we gently eased the door open and looked up and down the hall.

All clear.

We crept out, shutting the door behind us, we sniggered as we shimmied down the hallway, and I tripped over a potted plant, knocking it down with a crash, we looked at each other and quickly scooped the plant back up and shoving it under a curio table we took off at a mad silent dash through the halls until we reached the foyer.

We discovered Bobby in the living room, and we snuck in and over to the wing chair where he was sitting.

"We're going on a snack run," Hank whispered.

"It's gonna be a big one," I said in the rhythm to the children's 'bear hunt' song. "What a beautiful night, we're not scared!"

Bobby muffled his snort of laughter. "Let's roll."

We walked calmly through the house, affecting a 'Blue's Brothers' posturing as we headed for the kitchen door. Giggling we snuck out into the warm spring air, heading for the garage Hank started towards his car, but Bobby and I stopped him.

"Let's take someone else's car," Bobby crowed. "This is a special occasion."

"Whose?" Hank asked, and I looked around, surveying the cars for a moment before a wicked smile dawned on my face.

"Scott's, we're taking Scott's car," I said, unable to hide my glee.

I sat in the passenger seat while Hank hot-wired the car and we took off into the night, the three of us hooting and hollering as we raced down the driveway and into the night.

The wind felt incredible against my face and in my hair, and I had to resist the temptation to spread my wings, lest I go airborne and then crash. The bliss of committing a felony combined with the promise of favorite treats was intoxicating, and I hooted as we careened into Salem Center, heading for the all night convenience store on rt. 12 that connected to the interstate.

Pulling into the parking lot we stopped the car and pranced inside. Hank and Bobby headed for the Twinkies while I loaded up on peanut butter cups and rice crispy treats. We convened at the cash register, dropping two twenties on the table and ran out into the night leaving the confused clerk to shake his head at us.

"Okay, my turn to drive," I said, jumping behind the wheel I took off down the street, heading for the interstate.

"Where are you going?" Hank asked. "We all have classes and work tomorrow!"

"We'll be back in plenty of time," I replied, heading north on the freeway. "Scott'll never know."

More famous last words had never been spoken.

I floored it all the way to Montauk. Three hours flat. It was 2 am when we arrived and we all ran out onto the beach, collapsing against the surf and tearing into our packets, eating peanut butter cups and Twinkies, drunk on life. Hank ran down the beach while Bobby practiced his ice sculptures in the ocean and I ran down the shore, wings and arms out like some strange air plane.

At the end of the beach I ran into an area filled with enormous tall black rocks and Hank's voice reverberated through the space and I looked for him, giggling madly the entire time.

"Marco!" I called softly.

"Polo!" Hank called, scooping me up from behind and planting a heated kiss on my lips, pressing me up against the smooth stone. His claws caught in my clothes and his hand ran up my thigh as he kissed me deeply and I moaned into his mouth, then he pulled away and let out a roar and took off again while I ran after him, laughing so hard I could barely stand up.

We left at 4 in the morning, drunk on life, and I drove us home in our underwear, only I wore a shirt, covered in salt water and grinning like idiots.

It was 7 when we arrived back at the Institute and when we pulled into the driveway, Scott, Remy and Logan were waiting for us. Scott looked more pissed off than usual, not an easy thing to accomplish with those sunglasses. Remy took one look at us and burst out laughing, and Logan just sniffed the air and took Scott by the arm, dragging him away.

Climbing out of the car, I was glad the shirt covered me to almost my mid thigh, and I walked out of the garage and into the house with my head held high. Passing through the kitchen, I walked by my fellow teachers and headed up to my room where I took a shower and dressed for the day, heading to art history with wet hair and a smile that wouldn't quit.

When I walked into sex ed everyone sat up a little straighter. "Dr. McCoy's been kind enough to let us use his anatomy maps for todays lesson, get your things and come with me."

I spent the day teaching a class on male reproductive anatomy, and by the time the day was done, it was a Thursday evening and I happily wandered into my room to find a dress to wear on my date the following night. Nostrils flaring at the sheer casual-ness of my wardrobe, I went and knocked on Emma's door.

"Wanna go on a road trip?" I asked her.

"Whatever for?" Emma asked, eyeing me.

"I need to head back to my apartment and find the most mouth watering dress I can for my date with Hank tomorrow night, and you, my dear, have experience in that department," I explained.

"Let me get my purse," Emma said.

An hour later we were looking through my dresses in the storage unit I rented on the West Side. Against the back wall I had a three way mirror, and the walls were lined with carefully placed lacquer boxes on shelves, not unlike the storage systems Geisha used to incorporate in their okiyas. Even Emma was impressed as I slid my fingers along the boxes, reading off the tags until I pursed my lips and pulled the step ladder away from the wall, climbing up to the high shelves I managed to pull down a box without killing myself.

Setting it gently on the floor, I opened it and pulled out the scarlet corset bodice, caressing the distressed silk lovingly.

"Did Hank say how you should dress?" Emma asked, pulling out another box and studying the black and white Ascot dress with interest.

Glancing over at her I grinned. "Not for a day at the races, he said to dress in my finest attire. I'm not sure he knew just how enormous that decision would be. Although if your interested in borrowing that, I've got the matching hat around here somewhere."

While Emma put the dress away, I undressed to my Spanx and bra, and pulled the red dress up over my hips, studying the high waisted dress in the mirror, the drape of the skirt seemed to make it appear bigger in front before diminishing into a train at the back. "Hmm, maybe not."

Pulling it off, I carefully tucked it away, and went for another box. Three hours later, I was sitting in the middle of the floor staring up at the high walls, trying to figure out what to wear when Emma unearthed a box and after looking in it a moment, she shoved it in my face.

"This is the dress, put it on," she said, badgering me into opening the box, and I paused, breathless at the sight of the dress.

It was a white lace sheath gown, floor length, sleeveless. Under the lace sheath was a sheer, nude silk lining, and split up to the hip on my left side. It fit me like a glove, and I sighed.

"You'll have to go commando in that darling, but I think we found your dress," Emma remarked.

"I'd forgotten I even had this, I had it made for the White Ball my first year at Worthington Industries," I mused. "I nearly melted Bobby and Warren tried to get me to go home with him."

After packing up the dress, I put on my clothes, and dug deeper into the storage unit for the shoes that went with the dress. Eventually unearthing them, I pulled open the box to reveal open toed nude silk pumps that wrapped up my calf to the knee.

"Wren, you are going to give Hank a heart attack," Emma said with a gleam in her eye.

"That's the idea," I grinned back.

Getting ready on Friday was insane. I was up half the night before doing laundry and packing, then I had my classes all day that day, and at 3pm, I practically threw everyone out of my class so I could go and get ready. I breathed fired at Hank to stay far away from my bedroom, and then went off to conquer the unconquerable.

An hour before it was time to go, I was putting my hair up and putting on my make-up with Jean and Ororo's help before they helped me into the dress, oohing and aahing at the fit. My bag was already stored in the trunk of the car via Hank, so all I had to do was deliver myself.

As the women departed, I told them to make sure Hank was in the foyer in two minutes so I could make my grand entrance, and they scuttled ahead while I put the last few things in my handbag and stood back to survey myself in the mirror. My white blonde hair was piled on my hair in an up-do, my ice blue eyes popped against my pale white skin, and one scaled leg stuck out of the side of my dress. My wings made striking contrast, and I was delighted to note that the shoes still fit since my talons hadn't completely grown in yet.

In my shoes I stood at almost 5'10", almost as tall as Hank, and when I left the room, Logan and Remy saw me first and nearly fell over from the shock. Remy recovered first and came forward, taking my hand in his.

"Mah chere, you are going to knock Henri off his feet tonight, no?" He asked, kissing my hand and positively oozing French charm.

"That is the idea," I smiled back. "What about you Logan, do I meet with your approval?"

"You're gonna kill Hank, let us get to the foyer to see his face," Logan said, and the two men hurried ahead while I made my slow tour of the staff bedroom halls, heading for the stairwell. When I reached the foyer, I could hear voices, and I walked across the marble balcony, letting the clicking of my heels announce my presence.

I descended the stairs with as much grace as I could muster, smiling down into Hank's eyes who stood and looked up at me, positively agape.

"You-you-you," he stuttered, as I walked up to him.

"Thank you Hank, you look handsome too," I said, smiling up at him.

"Say cheese!" Bobby crowed, snapping a picture of us as some of my students walked into the foyer.

"Wow teach, you look amazing. You should teach sex ed in that," Santo exclaimed.

"No, that's okay, but your welcome to borrow it if you ever want to guest lecture in class," I said smoothly, and Santo burst out laughing.

"You know teach, you're alright," he said, walking off in the other direction, heading for the kitchen.

"Ready?" Hank asked, and I grinned at the hungry tones in his voice.

"As I'll ever be," I replied with a smile.

We drove for more than two hours, and all the while I badgered Hank into telling me where we were going, but he was adamant that it be a surprise.

And in the end, it was the perfect surprise.

He had rented a cabin on top of a mountain next to a lake. It had beautiful gardens that were lit with fairy lights. The cabin itself was a small bungalow with a bedroom/living room that included a fireplace. A bathroom with a tub big enough for four people, which really added out to two considering our own physiques, and a fully stocked fridge.

Out on the patio, in the gardens overlooking the lake, was a table where two freshly cooked venison steaks were waiting for us, champagne chilling in a bucket, and I sighed, leaning against Hank in bliss.

"This is incredible," I murmured, smiling as he pulled a chair out for me.

We ate and chatted easily with one another, laughing and joking easily. But in the background you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife. Towards the end of the meal, I excused myself and headed to the bathroom.

"Okay cookie," I muttered, hands slinking up to remove the lining in my dress and pulling off my underwear. "It's time to rock and roll."

I walked seductively back out onto the patio and gazed at Hank from the door, revealing my everything and smiling. The smile that spread across his face made me think of the Cheshire Cat as he slowly got up and tiptoed around the table before picking me and throwing me over his shoulder while I howled with laughter.

"Me Tarzan, you Jane," he joked, laying me out on the enormous bed and kissing me passionately.

Our coupling was hot and passionate the first time, and afterwards we laid tangled in the sheets, nestled in on each other, unable to keep our hands off of one another and unable to stop laughing. Then the mood shifted, only this time it was sweet and slow as we learned each other, taking immense pleasure in one another's bodies until we finally slipped off to sleep.

When I woke the next morning, I smiled down at Hank sleeping naked beside me, and slipped out from between the sheets. A thick mist had settled over our mountain paradise, and I went through the house, systematically closing windows and doors before stepping naked out onto the back patio and closing the bedroom doors behind me.

I walked past the uncleared plates from last night, slipping down into the garden and padding silently across the slate path until I walked through the gate and onto the shores of the lake.

I walked down to where the water lapped gently against the shore, and dipped a toe into the water. It was cool, but not too cold, and I walked into the water up to my waist before gently pushing off, taking long smooth strokes through the water, turning onto my back as loons called gently to one another through the mist. I swam out to the middle of the lake, climbing up onto a massive rock that protruded from the water and laid down on my belly, basking in the cool morning mist.

I enjoyed the moment to myself, away from the demands of other people. For so long it had just been me, and now that Hank was here, it was a little overwhelming at times. But in a good way, always in a good way.

Then I slinked off back into the water, lazily swimming back to shore.

The closer I got I could hear Hank calling for me, the crunching of his prodigious feet on the gravelly shore and I smiled at him as I came into view. Walking forward until I was in up to my waist, my long blonde plaits covering my breasts.

"There you are, I was worried," Hank said, beaming at me.

"The mist was so thick, and the water was so delicious I couldn't resist," I explained. "Care to join me?"

I stepped back into the water, crouching down until only my shoulders and head broke the surface.

Hank grinned leeringly and stepped into the water, and I pushed off with my feet, swimming deeper into the lake. What I wasn't expecting him to do, however, was pushing off into the water with his strong legs, colliding with me and wrapping me in his sopping wet furry arms. I shrieked and sputtered indignantly in his embrace, but he just smiled gently down at me until I settled against him, our legs treading water steadily as we gazed at one another.

In the intimacy of the moment, I gazed unabashedly into Hank's face, and then he grinned and the bastard dunked me. It was so sudden and unexpected that I allowed him to press me down, and after a moment's struggle, simply swam deeper into the water, heading towards the rock island twenty feet away.

When I looked back, I saw Hank swimming towards me, and I ducked, heading for the limestone gravel bottom of the lake, visible from the light filtering down into the clear water. I swam along the bottom, my stomach brushing the stones until Hank wrapped me in his arms and catapulted us towards the surface like a cork out of a champagne bottle.

We broke the surface, gulping in enormous breaths of air as we treaded water. Wordlessly tugging at Hank's arm, we swam towards the rock island and pulled ourselves into the broad stone, collapsing breathlessly in the morning sun that was finally breaking through the mist.

"Best idea ever," I panted as the clouds parted and the sun beat down on us. "Thank you for this weekend Hank, it's amazing."

"It's not over yet," he said, allowing the sun to dry his fur.

"Mmm, my my, you're just full of surprises," I said, affecting a fake southern accent. "Are we going to fill the bathtub with twinkies?"

"I hadn't thought of that, but now that you mention it, that doesn't sound like a half-bad idea," Hank replied, staring up at the blue sky.

"Mmm, neither does a nap," I murmured tiredly.

"No falling asleep out here in the sun," Hank admonished. "You aren't going to tan?"

"What? With this complexion? I'll be a lobster in an hour, tops," I replied, not really caring whether or not I got skin cancer.

"Then may I suggest a swim back to shore, followed by a shower and a nap?" Hank suggested, and I rolled off the rock into the water.

"What are we waiting for?" I asked, lazily back stroking. I drifted along, my chest and head the only things that really broke the surface of the water, and in the end Hank hauled me to shore.

We staggered up to the door, and once inside the house, I pushed Hank into the massive shower stall, taking far too much pleasure in lathering him up. I gave him a soap mohawk, and then took a small step back to admire my handiwork.

"I should have gone to beauty school," I mused.

"Is that so?" Hank asked, placing an enormous hand over my right shoulder and shelling me in. He leered down at me and I just got the hint so I ducked, but too late, he caught me in his massive arms, squishing his soapy fur against my naked skin while I screamed and clawed at him.

"Ooooh, you're like a giant loofah!" I yelled, nonplussed while he roared with laughter.

"Good, I'll get you nice and clean," Hank said, sitting down on the floor of the shower and dragging me down with him. He washed my hair for me, and then we took turns rinsing each other off with the removable shower head before we took turns conditioning one another.

By the time we got out of the shower, we were more or less clean. Hank climbed out first, wrapping himself in an enormous towel, and I followed suit, going back into the bedroom and putting on clothes for the first time in hours. It felt amazingly comforting. But when I went to put on one of Warren's old t-shirts, but Hank snatched it out of my hands.

"Here, put this on," he said, handing me another shirt.

It was one of Hank's enormous college t-shirts, and I laughed when I saw that he had had Warren put wing slits in the back for me. After a little teamwork, we pulled the shirt down over my head, and after Hank pulled on some pajama bottoms, we slipped into bed and nestled up against each other before slipping into oblivion.

Hank and I had this weird way of sleeping together. I slept on my stomach while Hank slung an arm over my waist, while one of his thighs stretched across my butt, my wings tucked in over them, shielding me while I slept. It was comfortable for the both of us, and I found Hank's weight and solidity comforting.

When I woke several hours later, I looked up to find Hank grinning evilly down at me.

"Get dressed my little pterodactyl, you're going to learn how to fly," Hank said.

"But I don't know how to fly," I managed.

"You move your wings all the time, I've seen you over the last few days, now you just need to flap them, and what better time to learn than on the move?" He asked, pulling me out of bed and pushing me towards my bag. He stood there stalwartly in the late morning light staring me down.

Sighing, I pulled out a pair of jeans and a tank top and turned back to Hank. "Shoes don't really fit my feet."

"That's okay, you don't really need them anymore, your scales are like armor, almost like little diamonds from what I can tell," Hank ruminated, then he threw back his head and roared.

I stood there, watching his aggressive posturing, completely nonplussed.

"I suggest you run," he said when he finished.

"I'm not playing this game with you," I remarked.

"Then will you play tag with me?" He asked hopefully. "If I catch you I'll ravage you."

"Hmm, that's not a big motivator for me to run away," I remarked. "Okay, fine. Tag! You're it!"

I ran out the door and away through the garden, shrieking when I heard Hank's enormous weight hit the ground behind me. I ran towards the tree line that headed up towards the top of the mountain.

I pushed myself up, motivated to keep moving by the enormous blue man in hot pursuit. I opened my wings wide, running up the path, my joints shook and twitched until I finally got the strange new muscles to work the joints, and I left the ground behind, flying up to the canopy of trees while Hank shouted and called congratulations before he climbed up into the trees with me and he swung from branch to branch while I flew alongside him, laughing until my sides hurt and I could barely breath. And when we finally turned home, I had a dull ache and I knew that Hank was helping me build up my strength and relearn how to use my body.

I made dinner that night, lobster ravioli in a white wine sauce with garlic bread and sparkling water. By the time we sat down, the rain had begun to fall, and lightening crackled and thunder rumbled. Soon after that, Hank lit a fire and we watched the lightening show over the lake before we quietly made love, and fell asleep on the floor.

The phone rang late that night, waking Hank and I, struck dumb for a moment by the sudden ringing that penetrated our little bubble of bliss.

"Hello?" Hank said into the receiver. I studied his feline face as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. When he hung up, he looked grim. "We have to go back to the mansion. Both of our presences are required."

"What? Why?" I asked, staring up at him.

"Scott wouldn't say, just that we had to come home immediately," Hank replied, and I slowly climbed to my feet and began getting dressed.

While we slowly packed, we ruminated on what could possibly have gone wrong.

"It could be an alien invasion," Hank commented drily. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Someone could have tried to wax Logan's back while he was sleeping," I remarked, just as drily. I burst out laughing at Hank's sidelong glance. "What, like you've never considered it?"

"You have?" Hank pressed.

"Better him than you," I quipped.

"Touche, perhaps the illustrious Juggernaut tried to join Ororo for tea without an invitation," Hank ruminated animatedly.

"Maybe Bobby pulled a prank on Emma," I commented, and Hank burst out laughing.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I took the keys off the table by the door. "I'm gonna go put these bags in the car. I'll be back soon to help you finish up."

"Alright my dear," Hank said, carefully folding another shirt.

Heading out into the misty evening, I set off down the hill towards the car park, stopping short when I heard voices speaking in the darkness.

"Mutants are staying up at the cabin," one of them seemed to be saying. "Some crazy blue thing and a lizard chick."

My heart tried to claw it's way up into my throat, and I crept across the tree line and into the forest, my keen eyesight picking out the path of least resistance until I was kneeling on the bluff, looking down into the lot and staring at the men talking in the darkness.

"We can't just let this stand, these people have polluted our population long enough," said another.

"Then let's get this party started," said a third, lighting a rag that sat in a bottle of whiskey. When the rag was lit he chucked it at Hank's car, and I turned on my heel and ran into the darkness, breaking the tree line, my fear and instincts kicked in and my wings spread wide and after a moment of unfamiliarity, the muscles snapped to attention and I flapped once, twice, thrice, and took flight.

I managed to make it up the hill to the cabin, and crash landed in the garden, forcing myself to my feet, I limped up the stairs and slammed the door open.

"Come on, we gotta go now. Some locals trashed the car, sent a molotov cocktail through the back window on your car and they're headed this way, barely made it here ahead of them," I explained quickly, dropping the bags. Throwing my handbag over my shoulder, I pushed at Hank until he grabbed his wallet and we snuck out the bag, slinking into the trees and crouching down when Hank judged us to be far enough away. We watched in grim fascination as they ripped through the house, shouting and cursing.

"Search the woods! We can't let them get away!" They called, and Hank tapped me on the shoulder, and we left quickly, heading up the mountain and deeper into the wilds.

We moved in silence, pausing only long enough for me to put Hank's wallet in my purse. When we reached the crest of the mountain, we could still hear their distant calls before plunging down the other side of the mountain. Our trek left only the crunching of leaves in our wake. Hank swung from branch to branch for a while, insisting that I cling to his neck. When we were a few miles away, we sat down in a clearing and tried to get our bearings.

"The town we were in, you said it was on the Canadian border, right?" I asked tiredly.

"Yes, indeed. If my calculations are correct, one of Logan's cabins is about thirty miles from here. We can make it in two days if we're diligent about it," Hank explained. "It's late, and we're safe enough here. Let's get some rest and head out at first light," Hank explained gently, leaning back against a tree. I snuggled up close to him, wrapping my fists in his blue fur and burying my head in his chest.

"I'm scared Hank," I said gently.

"I know, me too," Hank replied, stroking my hair absentmindedly.

We soothed one another until we fell into a few hours of broken sleep and woke feeling gritty and exhausted, but forced ourselves to meet the day anyway. We walked in silence for a while, and as the day heated up. I stripped off my shirt and walked along in my bra and jeans.

"My my, keep undressing we'll never make it to the cabin," Hank commented from the trees.

"Don't you know that's my way? To seduce you out here in the woods, leaving you sated and dreamy-eyed?" I asked wryly, grinning up at him. "Or we could play Tarzan and Jane."

"My my, you have quite the imagination," Hank leered.

"I know," I said cheekily. "Or we could play tag."

"Tag?" Hank asked. "But that's a child's game."

"Not the way I play it," I said, suddenly wishing I had kept my mouth shut.

"How do you play it?" Hank asked, staring at me with fascination as he hung from a tree.

"If you can catch me, you can have me, any way you want," I mumbled, staring at my fingernails.

"Then you better start running," Hank said, and I looked up at him to see him, grinning broadly as he dropped to the ground, hanging low and gazing up at me with barely contained glee. "I'll give you a twenty second head start."

I stared at him for a moment, slack-jawed. Then he started to count, and I took off like a shot through the woods. I reached a brook when Hank bellowed out "Ready or not! Here I come!"

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw his enormous blue figure coming at me, and I burst out laughing and took off running, wishing I had the space to take flight in the woods. But I pushed away the unproductive thought and ran until I broke the tree line. Stripping off my clothes and dropping my bag, I waded into the river up to my waist. I crouched low in the water as Hank came to stand on the bank of the river.

"Me Tarzan, you Jane," Hank grunted, sounding for all the world like Lex Barker.

Turning in the water, I headed downstream, smiling as my scales slide smoothly through the water. I did a lazy backstroke, pausing when I heard a loud splash, I looked up to see a very furry, very wet, very naked Beast swimming towards me and I shrieked with laughter as I slipped between the falls of a willow tree and found myself in an enclosed hollow. The water here was still and cool, but not stagnant. The rocks were smooth beneath my feet. I stopped and crouched low, letting the water come up to my shoulders, I pinned up my wet hair and waited for Hank who joined me a moment later.

Carefully pulling open the curtain, he slipped inside, looking around in wonder. I studied his face with a secret smile, taking pleasure in his obvious enjoyment of our small discovery. Then I boldly got up and walked towards him, swinging my hips suggestively and watched the desire in his eyes as I approached him. Pushing up onto the balls of my feet, I kissed him on the mouth, not hiding my hunger or need from this man. We took our time learning one another. We touched and tasted and caressed until the small grotto was filled with our moaning and sighs. And when I finally covered him, my knees cupped in his strong hands, I rode him gently until we climaxed, and then sighing, I rested my head against his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around me.

We were quiet for a long time afterwards, just enjoying the feel of water against our skin. Neither of us had words, nor the desire to break the spell that held us enthralled. The sheer magnitude of our union had shaken both of us to the core, and I wasn't surprised to discover that we were both crying. And then Hank began to talk.

"About a year ago, I broke up with my long-time girlfriend, Trish Trilby. Hmm, I thought we were going to get married. But she called me up one evening, before our big date. I was going to ask her to marry me. But instead she said that an article had been released, saying that our being together was an act of bestiality. That it was unnatural and sick-she left me because she cared more about her career that me. That she saw things the they same way they did and was ashamed. I-I was heartbroken, told the world I was gay so that I could heal, find a way to cope. My new evolved form is more. . . feline that I used to be. Then Cassandra Nova showed up. Told me that I was devolving, returning to the ocean. . . I believed her Wren. I was terribly scared and depressed. Then she possessed a student to attack me. . . It was a difficult time, and when it was over I had to find a way to pick up the pieces again. I-I'm not sure I have it in me again to do that-pick up the pieces, I mean," Hank said gently, studying my features closely.

"If you're devolving then we both are Hank darling, and we are going to go back to the ocean with so much grace and style, mother nature will never know what hit her. And any union that we have is not an act of bestiality, it is an act of grace and beauty. It's why we cry at the end instead of trying to diminish what we are doing here. And I promise you, if you ever need to pick up the pieces again, I will be there every step of the way doing everything in my power to help you," I said gently, lifting his chin so that he gazed into my eyes.

"What about you?" Hank asked, almost desperately, and I took a breath.

"The last relationship I was in was, well, bad. Really bad. My boyfriend, Dan, was a logger, and we lived together in a cabin out in Montana. . . winters were rough, and he hit his girlfriends when he got bored and drunk. One night it was a real bad snowstorm, I was 17 and 3 months pregnant. I was going to tell Danny that night, it was supposed to be special. But instead he came home drunk and started screaming at me about how the house was filthy and that I was cheating on him with the man who checked the electricity meter on the side of the house. He started pushing me around, and I got tired, so I pushed back, and then he pushed me down the stairs, and went to bed. I laid there a long time on the ground, bruised and swollen, bleeding out between my legs. . . I had miscarried," I said coldly, trying to distance myself from the horrible truth of my reality. "Something in me broke that night, and I managed to crawl across the floor and get Dan's keys off the table. I crawled out into the night, taking my barn coat and purse with me. I took Dan's truck and drove as fast as I could through the woods and the snow. Drove until I ran out of gas, barely crept into this little town in Saskatchewan called Fife Lake. Went into a diner, ordered some coffee and pancakes and cried until the town doctor came and put me to bed in her clinic. I was horribly sick for several weeks, but I stayed their long enough to get my GED and I applied for college in New York, came out here determined to make a new life for myself. . . I'm not sure I have the strength to do that again either."

We both sat there for a moment, raw and vulnerable. I tried to pull away, but Hank tightened his grip on my hips, not letting me get away from him. "Wren, I promise you that I will never hurt you, I will always do my utmost to cherish and protect you. I-I want to be in this, with you, if you'll have me."

"I-yes Hank, of course I'll have you," I said gently, stroking his fury cheek tenderly.

Reaching up, Hank gently pulled my head down and kissed me sweetly on the lips, running his talons down my back and between my wings, causing me to shiver. We stayed like that until the twilight peeked in on us. "I think perhaps we ought to get our things, and set up camp."

Nodding at Hank's words, I climbed off of him, stretching out my muscles with a groan of satisfaction, I climbed over Hank, just to be irritating and teasing, onto the soft loamy ground and behind the willow tree. "Hank, come here."

The sounds of splashing water came from behind me, and Hank joined me. We looked down into the small cave in the ground. It made the perfect hollow. It was about five feet deep and ended abruptly in a stone bottom. It was empty and dry.

"Let's go get our things, and return post haste," Hank remarked, and we waded back up the river to retrieve our bags.

When we got back to the hollow, I opened up my enormous purse and rootled about in it for several long moments before pulling out a blanket, a copy of 'The Passion of Mary Magdalen', a book of matches from a club in the City I favored and my toiletries kit. I let Hank set up our nest for the night while I went to brush my teeth and hair. When I returned, Hank wandered off, and I crawled into our nest, opening the novel and sighing deeply. The Magdalen was in the whorehouse, telling her fellow slaves her story in the Celtic Isles, and how she came to meet Jesus, and later, become pregnant with her own father's child, only in the end to be cast out across the seventh wave, and then to be discovered and sold into slavery. My hand rested nervously against my womb, and tears slipped down my cheeks at her lost daughter.

"Wren, are you alright?" Hank asked gently, and I closed the book and snatched my hand away from my stomach, dashing the tears from my eyes.

"Yes, fine," I said tightly. "I need to pee."

I got up abruptly and tramped off into the woods, walking until I found a grove of birch trees and I rested my head against my forearm, trying to compose myself.

"I was going to name you Hannah," I whispered to the daughter I had never met. But when no one responded, I sighed, soul deep, and squatted down to pee. My back rested against the cool birch tree, and I started when an old woman came out of the woods towards me. I wish I could say I stopped peeing, but having sex in a river all afternoon will do that to you, and I rather despised the idea of a UTI. So I squatted there, watching the elderly woman come closer and closer until I finally stopped peeing and stared up at her in awe.

"Come with me child," she insisted. Unable to summon the strength to resist, I let her take my wrist in one hand and lead me into the birch grove. I was still naked, but strangely unafraid. Then the woman took off her robe and placed it on my shoulders, and I smiled at the sight of her ancient wrinkled body, as naked as my own, bearing the beauty of a hundred years worth of wisdom. "You have grieved for 7 years for the child you never knew. What happened was not your fault. Hannah died because the gods didn't want her living in a world where a father like that existed. You will bear more children Wren-bird, and they will be beautiful. Take my mantel, and let Henry into your heart, he will love you and keep you safe."

"Wren? Are you back here?" Hank called, and I looked away for a moment, and when I looked back, I found I was alone in the birch grove, wearing the robe she had left behind. "There you are, where did you get that?"

"It was given to me," I replied softly.

"By who?" Hank asked curiously, coming forward to finger the strange mossy material.

"My guardian angel," I murmured softly, still dazzled by her words. "Come on bubbi, let's go to bed."

"Of course Wren-bird," Hank said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

Hank and I slept together that night rather uncomfortably, but we managed, and in the morning we companionably put out the fire and got dressed. I put my bra on, but kept on wearing the robe and was grateful when Hank said nothing.

I flew along while Hank swung from branch to branch. We braked for lunch and then kept on throughout the day, we spent another night in a meadow by a brook, staring up into the most incredible night sky while Hank pointed out the constellations and told all of their stories. And eventually we drifted off to sleep.

We made it to Logan's cabin early the next morning, and I set about cleaning things up while Hank fiddled with the radio, trying to get a message to the Institute. I smiled when I heard Logan's fuzzy voice over the intercom and his assurances that he would come with the X-jet to retrieve us. While Hank puttered I went outside, walking down between the trees to the lake behind the house, I picked up a stick and began writing out the Inuit story of Arnaaluk, drawing the images themselves. Feeling more satisfied than I had in a long time, I began writing out the other stories until I was down on my knees in the wet sand, drawing pictures and writing in the ancient language that was as much a part of me as my wings.

Eventually the chopping of the helicopter could be heard, but I kept right on drawing, my movements frantic until two shadows looked over my handiwork with interest.

"This-You can write in Inuit?" Logan growled, sounding more interested than I had ever heard him.

"Inupiat, yes," I replied softly. "I speak it too. You don't grow up on the North Slope without learning a few things."

"North Slope? Alaska?" Logan asked, sounding dazed.

"Mmmm," I murmured absently.

"Wren-bird, it's time to go home," Hank said softly. "You can write your stories down when we arrive."

I stopped, feeling a little dazed. "Home?"

"Home," Hank said, and held out his hand.


End file.
